“All set!” he said. Simon came down the stairs with two duffel bags slung around him and a backpack in his hand. Still, he seemed light, unburdened. “Let’s get you to your plane!”
To Heidi’s annoyance, Doreen suddenly had one thing on her mind: Simon Vale. Every chance she got, she ran off campus to watch Simon practice, or meet him at Bread the News Café on Main Street. And when she couldn’t be near him, she talked about him. Nonstop.
Heidi knew better than to express her disapproval openly since Doreen, like most people, believed herself to be autonomous. A negative word from Heidi would only make them closer. So she said nothing, hid her eye rolls, and hoped the whole thing would blow over—soon.
Heidi’s objection to the boy had nothing to do with him personally. She was not so far removed from her roots that she could pass judgment on someone because they were without the means to attend private school. In fact, she had no doubt that he was as handsome, kind, and athletic as Doreen went on and on and on and on about. And on. And on.
Walking to their afternoon class:
“Did you see what Juliet Goldberg did to her hair? I can’t believe she thought she could pull off a pixie cut with her face! She just doesn’t have the bone structure,” Heidi said.
“The person who loves her won’t care,” said Doreen dreamily. “Simon told me he would love me if I had green skin and a carrot for a nose. He said that even if I gained a thousand pounds and doused my skin with castor oil, his love would be undiminished.”
“I wouldn’t test it.”
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re lucky to have found him, Doreen. Juliet, on the other hand, is single.”
“I am lucky, aren’t I? Everyone should be as lucky as I am. Everyone should find true love in this world.” Doreen plucked a leaf off a tree and took a whiff with her eyes closed.
“Watch out for that bench!” said Heidi, though part of her hoped to see the girl tumble over it and back down to earth.
“Thanks!” Doreen flicked the leaf away. “Anyway, I think you’re being too hard on Juliet. She’s beautiful on the inside.”
Heidi turned away and tried not to gag.
At breakfast:
“You know, it’s funny. I never liked sports before I met Simon.”
“Waste of time, if you ask me,” said Biz. “I really don’t understand the appeal at all.” She had helped herself to a little of every single cereal on offer. Cereal suicide, she called it.
“I’m with you,” said Heidi as she loaded up her coffee with skim milk and Equal.
But Doreen did not seem to have heard them. “I never knew why girls wanted to be with athletes. Girls who don’t particularly like sports, I mean. Why would someone who doesn’t watch football want to date a football player? But now I am starting to understand.” She took a thoughtful nibble of whole wheat toast. “Here’s what it is—”
“You don’t have to explain,” said Heidi. “Really.”
“When I watch Simon play football, he’s so much better than everyone else and it makes me feel like a winner myself, naturally. But I also feel very safe. Because Simon loves me and he would kill anybody who would want to hurt me. And he could do it, too. With his bare hands. He is so, so strong.”
“Anyone could do that,” said Biz in between bites of cereal sludge. “I mean, I could kill someone with my bare hands. Truly. It’s easier than you might think if you’re familiar with human anatomy. All you have to do is—”
“I was thinking,” said Doreen. Heidi made an involuntary cluck with her tongue. When you interrupt you seem overly eager, and stupid. Civilized people wait their turn. Roland had taught her that. “Do you think that Simon could get a football scholarship? To Chandler? I know you haven’t seen him play, but you have to believe me when I say he is remarkably good. He would be a huge asset.”
“Sorry, did you say football scholarship?” asked Heidi.
“Yes. Chandler does have a team, don’t they?”
“Sure. I think we do. We do, don’t we, Biz?”
“I have heard that we do.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to win? And with Simon leading the team, they would win. Wouldn’t they be willing to cough up some tuition for the bragging rights? Biz, what do you think?”
Biz and Heidi exchanged a look. Chandler was not the sort of place that gave football scholarships. “Uh,” said Biz.
“He will achieve such greatness. But he needs help. Just a little nudge in the right direction. Wait until you see him play! You will see what I mean.”
“Here comes Misha. Let’s change the subject, okay?” said Heidi.
“But why should I—”
“Doreen! Just trust me. Keep it mum for now all right?”
“What are we talking about here?” Misha slid in next to Heidi.
“We were . . .” Doreen looked at Heidi, who subtly shook her head. Simon or not, Doreen still wanted to be popular, didn’t she? “We were talking about that cute top you’re wearing, Meesh. Where is it from? It’s adorable.”
Bullet dodged, Heidi thought. For now.
As Misha reported on some half-true piece of gossip she’d heard from Wes Sylvan, Heidi became even more convinced that the Simon Vale business had to be kept under wraps. If it got leaked to the Chandler gossip mill, Doreen would be finished. Doreen had not even finished a single semester at the school, and she’d already decided that the boys on offer were beneath her consideration? Boys and girls alike would not take kindly to that. Add to that Doreen’s worthy attitude about Simon’s “goodness,” and soon enough people would turn on the girl.
If she had to, Heidi would take action. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d broken up a couple she deemed unsuitable or inconvenient, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Better to try and talk some sense to the girl, remind her of their larger project. She watched Misha try to impress Doreen and felt a wave of pride. They had come so far already, there was no saying what they might accomplish together if they stayed focused. And Heidi was thinking beyond Chandler now. Two girls from the outside win at high society? This was a partnership that could be mutually beneficial for the rest of their lives.
The thing to do was to loosen up a bit, reestablish their bond with a little one-on-one fun. Heidi made a plan to meet Doreen in the shed behind the stadium an hour before curfew. “Just us,” she said with a wink, and Doreen grinned. She still had some influence over the girl, Simon or not.
“How’s that?” asked Doreen. Heidi examined the sad-looking joint.
“Um, a little better I guess. But you have to roll it tighter. Here. Like that, see?”
“I’m hopeless at this. You should just roll these.”
“But rolling a joint is a great skill, Doreen. Very sexy.” She sparked the joint with a lighter she’d “borrowed” from Ad-rock two years earlier.
“Really?” They’d laid out Heidi’s raincoat to protect their little tushes from the wet earth. The dank smell of the ground mixed pleasantly with the armpitty weed stink. It felt very natural, something Heidi felt infrequently.
“It’s one of those things, like playing pool. Working a socket wrench. Men like a girl with skills.” She exhaled.
“What’s a socket wrench?”
“I have no idea.”
Doreen burst out laughing and Heidi joined, their giggles muffled by the shed’s wet wood.
“Stop it,” said Doreen, wiping away tears. “Oh my god. I’m going to pee my pants. Wait. What did you say? Now I can’t remember what was so funny.”
“Me neither!” They fell over themselves laughing.
“How long do you think kids have been getting high in this shed?”
“About a century. Give or take.”
“And they never get busted?”
“Who knows?”
“I bet my dad
smoked pot in here.” Doreen looked around as if trying to picture it. “He went to school here, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Heidi, trying to keep her tone relaxed. “Sure, you said that. It’s funny though, you never talk about him. Uh, so, what’s he like?”
Doreen drew lines in the dirt with her finger. “I don’t know. I don’t really know him anymore. He picked me up from the airport in Boston. But before that I hadn’t seen him since I was little.”
“What did he say when he picked you up?” Heidi was doing her best to seem caring and interested, not nosy. She drew in another hit.
“I guess he was afraid that I was going to embarrass him. At Chandler. He said something about how it was his turf and he had certain expectations, whatever that means.”
“Oh, Doreen. I’m so sorry. What a jerk.”
“What? No, I don’t know. He has a reputation to protect.” Doreen’s face fell, and she was once again the bullied, lost child. Heidi felt a rumbling in her heart. She knew what it was like to feel like you deserved to be treated badly.
“Nonsense. You have as much right to be here as anyone else. No offense, but that guy sounds like an asshole.”
“You’re right.” Doreen clenched her fists. “He is an asshole! HE IS AN ASSHOLE! He kept going on and on about how I was lucky to get the opportunity to attend Chandler, that he’d pulled strings for me. Like I was a stranger, you know? Not his own kid.”
“Oh man. If he could see you now, right? He probably never expected you to be so popular. Gordon Lichter is fawning over you, any number of boys would love to get their hands on you.”
“Well, they are out of luck. Because I only have eyes for Simon.”
“Yes. Right.”
A darkness fell across Doreen’s lovely face. “Sometimes, when I watch him play football, I like to think of how small my dad would look next to him. How weak and unmanly compared to Simon.”
“Your father would probably hate him,” Heidi said encouragingly.
“I know. Isn’t it grand?” Doreen gave Heidi a savage grin. “Don’t think I didn’t think of that.” Doreen resumed the sweet tone of a young innocent. “None of it matters now. When I bring Simon to the Fall Dance—”
“Sorry?” said Heidi as she coughed out her hit. “Did you say . . . ? Hold on.” She was afraid she might choke. To the dance? That was unacceptable.
“Didn’t I tell you? He’s going to be my date.”
“No. That’s not . . . What about . . . Gordon will be there.”
“I don’t care about stupid, little Gordon Lichter! He’s nothing but a version of my father. Not Simon. You wait, Heidi. Wait until you see him play football. You’re coming to the game tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Heidi rubbed her eye. Okay. She could fix this. She would think of something. “I said I would, Doreen, so I will. A real lady always fulfills her obligations.”
“Good. You’ll see. You’ll understand it all when you see him play.” Doreen leaned her head back against the side of the shed. She breathed deep into her chest. That little lost girl was gone now, replaced by a fearless, powerful woman.
Had Simon done all this for her? If so, how could it be anything but good? But it didn’t seem good, not at all. Something new had come into Doreen, a coldness Heidi had never seen before. It took an absolute hold on the girl, sending a chill through Heidi.
But then, just as suddenly, the old warmth returned. “Trust me,” Doreen said and patted her friend on the leg, “it will all work out. You’ll see.”
Heidi scraped the joint against the wall and buried the roach. She wanted to be far away from that place. “Okay, lovergirl, we better jet.”
Later that night, Heidi tried to focus on her AP Chem homework, but was distracted by thoughts of Simon and Doreen. It was bad enough for Doreen to go off-roading so early in her time at Chandler, but to shove it in everyone’s face at the Fall Dance? It was a disaster waiting to happen. Heidi hoped that whatever Simon and Doreen had between them, it was worth losing everything for. Or worse. Chandler kids were not above dishing out the kind of cruelty Doreen had faced at her old school. Sure, she had gained some standing on campus, but she was still an unknown, with few ties and no history. Her status was hardly guaranteed. The girl was setting herself up for some heavy retribution, especially where Gordon Lichter was concerned.
But she was Heidi Whelan! She could protect Doreen, couldn’t she? The periodic table swam before her eyes and she closed her book. Heidi felt off her game. When she focused on her own desires, she always knew what to do. But this new effort to use her powers for good was leaving her more confused than anything else. Leave them to their happiness and hope she had enough clout to keep Doreen safe from the wolves? Or break them up and sacrifice what Doreen swore was true love? She certainly did seem to have very strong feelings for the boy. But how long could that last? They were just kids, after all.
Heidi munched a pistachio. Was it really Simon that had her so out of sorts? Or was it something else? The way Doreen looked in the shed tonight had frightened her. Her cold expression, as if she had no feelings at all—Heidi had seen such a thing before, not from Doreen, of course, but from him. She was his daughter, wasn’t she? And she hated him.
Doreen hated Roland. Heidi had seen it in her face. She loathed her father for what he’d done to her and her sad stewardess mother in the Great Plains. It satisfied Heidi tremendously. Maybe he loved Doreen when she was little. Maybe he shined his attentions on her, just as he’d done on Heidi. And then he took them away, pushed her out of the light, into the cold. He’d made Heidi feel like she could do anything, like she was beautiful and special and gifted. And then he tossed her out like one of his wet, burned-out cigars.
We hate him, Doreen, Heidi thought. And we will make him pay.
A football game! Doreen scampered across the bleachers, making easy passage through the crowd to her favorite spot. Heidi and Biz tried to keep up, but their progress was slow. Heidi hoisted herself over each bleacher as delicately as she could on her high-heeled boots, attempting to remain dignified with her fuzzy, yellow-gloved hands upraised for balance. Beside her, Biz kneed and elbowed everyone they passed.
“Hey! Heidi! Biz! Down here!” Doreen called from near the bottom of the stands, waving an arm back and forth. Heidi waved back. Biz waved, too, kicking some kid in the ribs as she did. Slowly, apologizing to every human obstacle in their path, they caught up to their friend.
“Well!” Heidi exclaimed with a warming shake of her shoulders. “I didn’t know there would be a physical challenge involved. How fun!” She snuggled in close, threading her arm through Doreen’s elbow.
“Metal bleachers to view a winter sport—uh, interesting choice!” Biz made a show of seeming comfortable on the bench while maintaining the rail-straight posture that had been drilled into her by Mumzy. “I might have chosen a material that doesn’t conduct the cold so readily. Wood, for example. Or hard plastic.” She brought her camera to her face and snapped a few pictures of the crowd.
“Hush, Biz. And be a good sport. This is Doreen’s day. Anyway, I brought a little something to take the edge off your cold buns.” Heidi fished through her Louis Vuitton tote and pulled out a small mother-of-pearl flask. Taking a quick snort, she passed it to Biz.
“Yes, I believe this time I will take you up on it,” said Biz, emptying a sizable deposit of booze into her gullet. “For warmth.”
“Of course, of course. Doreen?”
“Huh?” said Doreen.
“Schnapps?”
“Oh, uh, no. No, thank you.” The marching band conductor scrambled onto the field and the band made their way to their feet. A large sound emerged. It sounded not unlike music, but not totally like music, per se.
“Wow!” yelled Biz, smiling through her obvious misery. “An impressive volume, don’t you think?”
“What!?�
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The fans around them began to sing enthusiastically. “It’s the fight song. They’re about to come out. Look! Look! There’s Simon!” Doreen pointed and jumped up and down, unable to contain herself. Heidi could imagine her as a child, her bright purple eyes wide and hungry for experience. “Heidi, do you see him? He’s the one in front. Oh my god! He’s looking for me!” Doreen waved. “Simon! Simon! I’m here!”
Heidi felt a pang of embarrassment at the sight of Doreen’s blatant eagerness. She seized Biz’s camera.
“Hey!”
“Shhh!” Heidi slapped Biz’s hand away. She found Simon and zoomed in the powerful lens to get a better look.
The boy was looking up toward their seat, helmet in hand. Heidi watched him search for Doreen and when he found her, he grinned madly, with an almost insane joy. He was certainly handsome—more than that, he was resplendent. Leading the team of musclemen onto the field, Simon had a broadness about the chest and solid legs with a long body he carried upright, making his movement seem effortless. His complexion was dark with black, short hair and a meaty mouth. Though—and it may have been the uniform or the shoulder pads or the crazy glee—Heidi thought he looked like he might be an imbecile.
“Wow,” she said. “Well done, Dorie! He looks like a movie star.”
Doreen blew a kiss out onto the field. Simon pretended to catch it. Heidi winced. “And he’s so good! Wait until you see him play,” said Doreen, breathlessly.
“Can I have my camera back now?” asked Biz.
“No,” said Heidi. “Stop asking.”
“Look at him smile at you.” Biz strained over Heidi’s shoulder at the camera’s display. “I’m afraid he’s going to fall down!”
“Who, Simon? Never!” said Doreen. “Just watch. I’ve never seen him do anything that wasn’t deliberate.” Meanwhile, Biz kept nodding and smiling, nodding and smiling, staring out at the proceedings without a clue as to what she was meant to be looking at.
Doreen Page 8
